The eighth Horcrux
by Maxp
Summary: During 6th year, Harry, Ron and Hermione are looking for the Horcruxes, while they continue their studies. Draco Malfoy had just had the darkest summer of his life, his father sent to Azkaban, and he received the Dark Mark from Voldemort. When a meeting occur in the Room of Requirement and secrets are kept, what changes will it bring ? Dramione - T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1 : Gotta find a way

**Author notes** : Hello to you all. Please Give me feedback !

Some informations **about me** first : I'm French, so english isn't my mother tongue. Therefore, forgive me for any mispelling or errors in the story, and feel free to correct me, this will be much apreciated. Also, this is my first time posting a fanfiction.

Some indications **about the story** : I will try to post once a week as much as possible. The chapters will rotate between Draco's and Hermione's viewpoint. The lenght of each chapter will be between 500 and 1000 words.

 **I will only put the Disclaimer once, here, for the entirety of the story : _I_** _ **do not own Harry Potter, its universe or its characters in any way, all of it is J.K. Rowling's property.**_

 **Chapter 1 : Gotta find a way**

On a far corner of the library, protected from prying eyes by the absence of other tables around and bookshelves hiding from view, was Draco Malfoy, seated alone with piles of books surrounding him from all sides. He was almost finished with the book opened in front of him when a student tentatively walked toward him and stopped a few steps away. Feeling his concentration wavering as he was being watched, Draco peeled his eyes off the letters and looked at the one that had bothered him in his lectures.

A boy, seemingly a 4th year from Ravenclaw, seemed hesitant to start talking to him. He was sending discretely looks behind his shoulders, in direction of two others of his house placed near a bookshelf that were making encouraging gestures in his way. Fed up by the show, and starting to feel quite irritated, Draco caught the eyes of the bravest one -even if he was more likely the one who had been chosen as sacrifice, before talking :

"What do you want ?" He asked rather harshly.

"We-well, we have this essay to write and we were wondering if we could seat there to do it."

To his defence, the boy didn't lower his eyes and answered Draco rather confidently, apart from the stutter at the beginning of his sentence. But this fact did nothing for his cause, and Draco's slightly impressed state only transpired by a raised eyebrow.

"The table is already taken. By me."

"Yeah but..." the Ravenclaw tried.

"No, I am busy. Now get lost." He tersely hissed and narrowed his eyes threateningly.

The look he sent in the Ravenclaws way had been scaring enough for them to retreat and leave the Slytherin alone. On his own again, he wondered briefly where those guys had found the stupid idea of _sharing a table with Draco Malfoy_.

Chasing those useless thoughts, he tried to go back to the book he was reading. And quickly closed it in a huff. Who was he kidding ? There would be nothing to help him in it, like in the first parts of it, and like in the book before, and all the books spread out around him. He leaned back against his chair and let his eyes fly over the proof of his unsuccessful attempts. Reaching for his wand into his robes, he waved it in their direction and tossed a " _Depulso_ " spell allowing the books to fly off the table and find back their own place on the shelves.

Once the table was book-free, he slumped down on it, head tucked in his right arm, the left outstretched along the surface. He closed his eyes and stilled in that pose. A long and stressed sight escaped his lips. It sounded kind of defeated in his own ears. He had passed an awfully long part of his time doing researches lately, and had not found a _clue_ on what could _possibly_ allow him to get ride of his problem. Not that he had hoped he would find the solution written black on white on sheets of paper, this issue was for all he knew unheard of. Yet he had expected that looking on specific topics related to it, he would at least find something, anything.

He had passed days, weeks, that even turned into month now, doing researches on researches. He had covered all the books written on dark spells allowed to be seen, and even a few from the restricted area. As he found nothing, he had inquired on large subjects which had the tiniest link such as mental control, vital transfer, spiritual ties and studied the Protean Charm as much as wizardly possible. He even found some muggles books from "doctors in psychology" that he forced down his throat. To no avail.

While ruminating his dark thoughts, leading him to even darker places, he didn't feel himself falling asleep. But his last coherent thoughts, that he mumbled to himself, sounded quite comforting :

"Can't give up... gonna fight this.. fight this and find a way..."


	2. Chapter 2 : Out of Luck

**Author notes :** I decided to post half of the chapter on Hermione side for you to be able to see if you like it more ; it is more lively than Draco as express much more emotions.

Next week chapter will thus also be on Hermione viewpoint, but I'll add thing as to fulfill my "no under 500 words chapter" rule.

 **Chapter 2 : Out of luck  
**

Hermione Granger walked with confidence and a smile tugging at her lips along the corridors. She had for once been able to convince Harry and Ron, her two best friends, to study together. All three of them. Some could think it wasn't unusual to see them working together, because few were the moments they didn't spend together, outside of classes them didn't share or the boys' quiddich practices.

But actually, study sessions _were_ a rare occurrence between them. Hermione would generally have to taunt them, or threaten them. There was even a case were she had had to _beg_ them -a memory she hastily forced herself to leave aside. That was the extent to which the boys tried to avoid studying. She couldn't understand them : learning new spells, new potion recipes, any knowledge in fact, was, simply, the best of activities.

But this time, a miracle happened. That was the only logical explanation she could mutter. She had formulated the idea of it, and they had easily agreed. Indeed, after gathering the courage to ask them The Question -courage used to face the rejection she was sure to get in response, they had said _yes_ !Ron had seemed a little put off about it, so Harry had told her that they would join her right after finishing their magical chess game. As it was a good compromise for both parties, she had left first from the Gryffondor common room and had headed toward the library.

Her smile wavered slightly when she pushed open the door of the library and glanced at the packed tables in it. Apparently, all the school had decided to work on this day, which was rather weird since the weather was mild, even if cloudy. She slowly made her way along the bookshelves, trying to find a free table, or at least some empty seats. Halfway though, she was just looking for just one empty chair. The students didn't seem to be ready to leave either.

She was ready to give up and tell the boys they had won a respite, when she reached a quiet corner. The emptiness of the seats looked heavenly to her and she rushed over, until she stopped short and understood _why_ nobody had claimed them.

There was lying a Draco Malfoy, fast asleep. He was sprawled across the table, face hidden in one of his arm. And she thought she was out of luck before ! All the seats were taken but for the ones she would have to share alongside him. She shook her head at the mere idea of doing so.

First, because the library was a place to study, not a nice napping spot. Second, because she disliked him greatly and his indolent attitude irked her. Third, because even if three of the four chairs had no bottom on it, Malfoy was easily using two, nay three quarters of the working space, with an elbow sticking out on one side and an extended arm on the front.

As she reflected on her _valid_ reasons, Hermione came to one aspect that appeared in each point. To summarise : she had to wake him up.


	3. Chapter 3 : Civil Conversation

_As she reflected on her _valid_ reasons, Hermione came to one aspect that appeared in each point. To summarise : she had to wake him up._

 **Chapter 3 : Civil conversation (637)**

Once the decision was made, she felt a subtle -but still present, pang of guilt at disturbing his slumber.

Since the start of the semester, Malfoy had seemed out of sort, stopping paying attention in classes and slacking in his work. Not that she especially took notice of him, but she had to admit that he was only second to her in academic related matters. And not to mention he had hardly sent any sneer in direction of Harry, Ron and herself. Not that she was complaining. She remarked his skin had a sickly tinge to it too.

Nonetheless, her moral and her logic still won in the end, with a little part in the choice coming from the feeling of not being really fond of him. Therefore, she shrugged her discomfort and took a steadying breath before acting.

She gradually came closer as she called his name firmly. He didn't even stir from her voice, and after a few more calling, as she was hovering above him, the table between them the only separation. Hermione felt her irritation rise up. She then went to shook his accessible arm, but the tips her fingers hadn't even brushed against his robes that the arm was suddenly withdrawn.

"Don't touch me !" The voice was so sudden and so full of venom that Hermione startled.

As she looked up, she saw that Malfoy had straightened himself on his chair, like he was trying to put the more distance possible between them with him staying seated, and clung at his arm that he had brought back against his chest, in what seemed like a protective gesture. His eyes reminded her of the look Crookshanks had sometimes when she tried to treat him when it came back with injuries : a wounded wild animal, full of fury, distrust, but also a bit of fear.

Later on, she would wonder if she should have reacted to all those signs and be more tactful. Instead, in the heat of the moment, meaning being verbally assaulted and looked at like the cold blooded killer of one's entire family, her defences stepped in.

"What Malfoy", she couldn't help but spit the name as her voice was rounded of spleen and irony, "afraid to catch germs ?"

"Who knows what might lurk in the _mud_ , Granger." Came his immediate reply.

And it hurt. Hermione had thought she had gotten over it over the years, but the reminiscence of the nickname tore it's way in her heart and froze her brain in painful memories of being manhandled, and the fact that Malfoy was usually the one -most fervent one, bullying her didn't help a bit.

She was hurt by how quick and sharp the reply was, by the absence of silence between the two sentences. She was hurt by the matter-of-fact tone he had used, lacing with it hints of disdain and repulsion, making his statement takes so much strength and reality. She hated how his feature had echoed with it, full of contempt and boredom. The way he had pronounced the "m" word, as he could actually taste it in his mouth by just saying it, hurt too. And so did it by how he had hurled her name.

Well, what had she expected, really ? A civil conversation with Malfoy ? She scoffed internally of how stupid she had been to believe everything would have been as planned with him.

She felt breathless but remained tight-lipped to not show him how much his words affected her. Her eyes, which she had diverted from his to hide her turmoil, slowly made their way back to his face. And when she saw him scrutinizing her, not doubt to behold the damages he had caused and revel in it, Merlin help her, she lost it.


	4. Chapter 4 : Retort

**Chapter 4 : Retort**

As no racy retort came back from the seemingly stunned witch, Draco watched her closely. He was dreading a little her reaction -she _had_ punched him once after all. He apprehended because of the way his sentence had sounded : too harsh, too cold, too ruthless.

He wasn't lying to himself : he had planned to say it, or at least something along those lines. But not that way. Never that way.

Because as much as he enjoyed sending taunts her way, it wasn't about rendering her silent. Truly, all the fun resided in her keen and cunning feedback and the fire she held behind it. But he hadn't had control over it crossing the barrier of his lips.

What he had said had little matter in her upcoming reaction, or more precisely the strength behind it. The words were the same as in all these years they had known each other.

The _way_ he had said it however, the tone he had used, had been heartless to the core.

Narrowing his eyes, a swift examination confirmed his previous deduction. He could see it in the way her fists were becoming white from the strength of her clenching and in the fact that all her frame was nearly invisibly shaking. Her face gave him the feeling he had just punched her in the guts. And then everything happened in a blur.

He saw her schooling down her features first, and she met his eyes with the blankest of look he had ever seeing. Then he watched, as in slow-motion, all the feelings that crossed her mind as she burned him on his spot with her gaze. They varied from resentment to anger to ire to wrath, escalating quickly.

At the same time, he could hear her voice increase in volume and speed with her emotions but registered the words only seconds later, as she fixed him hatefully.

"You utter, arrogant, loathsome, vile little _fiend_ , you are so black and degenerate it's a wonder how I could one day have considered you _human_. I may be _mud_ , but you... you're nothing but a self-centred imp who can not even hide behind his little daddy's perfect boy mask anymore. And get out of that table, libraries are for work , not sleep !"

Though he had paled a little, more than usual -more than lately, he tried to keep a blank and unaffected face during the tirade. He winced and clenched his fists at the reference of his father, and used all his restrain not to hex her on the spot. The rest, he just let it slide ; he didn't want to analyse the meaning of those words she had uttered just yet.

Not to say that her wand had suddenly appeared from under her robes in her clenched hand. She hadn't raised her arm but the tip of her wand was without any doubt pointed his way.

It was definitively the longest retort anyone had ever addressed to him. The more colourful, too. And leave it to the know-it-all to find so many pejorative terms in such short notice.

He wondered briefly if there existed a situation or a person that would turn her speechless one day. That would be a sight to behold, he reckoned. But for now he felt kind of glad even the cold spreading from him hadn't reached her.

Sadly, he didn't had the chance to counter with a well versed reply of his own.

As Hermione Granger looked at him with fury, breathing hard, long hurried steps were heard and soon they found the both of them facing the wrath of Madam Pince, the strict and nose-pinched librarian.

"What's happening here ? Where did you hear you had the right to _shout_ in my Library ?"

"Nothing." At Granger's reply, Madam Pince seemed ready to burst out and started yelling at her to get _out, out, out!_ , but Hermione only gave her a flitting glance and turned heels as she answered the librarian angrily. "No need to blow off, I'm leaving !"

Draco watched Granger's retreating back until she disappeared behind a bookshelf. He experienced the strange feeling of fulfilling pride at the Gryffondor's flee ; he had seen the tell tales of tears reflecting in her heated eyes. He felt a smirk grace his lips slowly. Not his entireday had been a loss in the end.

Then his gaze shifted to the disciplinarian woman that had just been responded to -and by stuck-up, biggest-bookworm-ever Hermione Granger no less. With no way to retaliate toward the offensive girl, it appeared quickly in Draco's mind that he would surely be the one taking the fall.

He wasn't wrong.

* * *

 **Author's notes : hey readers, please leave comments ! I take them all in consideration for the story (not that I will change my whole plot because of it, but I really strive to make it better) so again, pretty please !  
**


	5. Chapter 5 : Blacklist

***also Draco this time, more suspens at the end I guess than if I had posted Hermione side. Enjoy.**

 **Chapter 5 : Blacklist  
**

Her sharp eyes settled on him.

"Mister Malfoy, before I throw you out for your and your fellow student" -he cringed there "unacceptable attitude, I want to hear an explanation."

He let out a sigh. As much fun it had been, he had to sort this mess out somehow, and concentrate on more pressing matters. His mood dropped a few inch at his reminder. He focused on the woman that was becoming more and more impatient for his answer.

"Like she said : nothing." He said tersely and went to stand up.

"Not so fast." She blocked his exit.

"It was just a spat, really." He relented. Even if he used it scarcely, he had learned early the benefits of diplomacy.

However, she didn't seem to acknowledge it as over. And by the way the librarian was seething, his words wasn't what she expected to hear. He frowned at her. What was that harpy up to ?

"You're going to answer for your actions ; first a hear a young girl shouting in my Library-"

"What- That ridiculous !" he interrupted, eyes wide from incredulity. "You can not hold Granger's tantrum against me !"

"Miss Granger wasn't yelling on her own, Mister Malfoy. But that not all I am holding against you." she replied curtly.

At that, Draco felt his indignation falter. What was wrong then ? He couldn't remember for the life of him one thing that harpy could hold against him. He roamed is thoughts fast. Maybe she had found out he had penetrated in the restricted area ? No, it was something else. She would have known much earlier if it was about his trespassing. He had no recollection either of breaking another rule : he hadn't damaged any book, scorned any page, nor brought any food. Then what ?

Madam Pince cut through his silent inquiry by pursuing her phrase :

"How come you were found sleeping instead of enlightening yourself with knowledge ?"

Draco stood there in utter disbelief, his mind frozen in a blank state. That obsessed librarian worshipped so much her precious books that she menaced to punish him because... he had been overlooking them for a few moments ? She had to be kidding.

It was then official for Draco : that woman was nuts. He couldn't help the snort that escapade him. Neither the annoyed comment.

"Those books are useless anyway" he grumbled.

"What did you say ?" he heard her whisper breathlessly. When Draco's eyes locked with Madam Pince's, he instinctively knew he was done for. He could read cold blatant anger in it, with a mixture of shock and repulsion. What was he thinking, insulting the only thing that that frustrated frigid old vulture loved. Her tone was dry and firm when she addressed him again "You will come for detention-"

"No way, I don't have time for that !" He thought of his missions – one from the Dark Lord and the other he had took upon himself. He really had no time to fool around.

"You will find it, young man, or else, don't even hope set foot in here again."

"Well, let's do just that then." He had barely observed the meaning of his phrase before letting it out. That didn't matter. Nothing of use was in here anyway.

He heard a shriek coming from the older woman. Did he had said that last part aloud ? Well, he was already screwed either way. He had just dug a little deeper his grave. Not like he wouldn't step in it soon. His mood grew heavier than the bottom he had thought it was at. Just how deep really were the darkness ? Maybe they were endless. He felt them constrict him.

A feral glint entered his eyes when the demented woman finally pointed him the direction of the doors. He was leaving, all right. But he was a Malfoy, and Malfoy didn't get banned or dismissed like feeble house elves.

He let the mad woman solemnly declare Draco Malfoy as the first student ever in all her teaching history -or possibly Hogwarts history, making it to the Library Blacklist as he headed toward the exit. He passed her with all the aristocrat presence he owned, head high and strides long. In the aisles, curious heads poked from bookshelves while they whispered amongst themselves.

His thoughts blurred as he walked, turning easier as his frustration took over. It was all so simple, really. She had to paid for that humiliation. He knew her weakness. And so he struck.


End file.
